Review: Paul Taylor’s ‘Tracer’ Recalls a Dance and an Artist

The choreographer Paul Taylor, who is preparing his next premiere for March, has been making dances since 1954. But there’s one curious divide within his output, too little discussed. Between 1954 and 1962, he made a series of 17 works with designs by the artist Robert Rauschenberg; the last of these was “Tracer.”

The next work he made, “Aureole,” also from 1962, was the first one that made Mr. Taylor a big choreographic name and audience hit. This responded to its Handel music with a lyrical happiness that went against the modernist grain of American modern dance at that time; and its musical danciness has characterized much of Mr. Taylor’s style ever since. But the popularity it brought him (it was soon being danced by Rudolf Nureyev and ballet companies) lastingly alienated him from Rauschenberg; from John Cage (who had dedicated a piece of music to him); and from others in their circle, some of whom are still alive.

All these early stages of the Taylor trajectory were — marvelously — evident in a quadruple bill presented by his studio company, Taylor 2, on Friday through Sunday at the 92nd Street Y. Here was early Taylor, with works from 1956 to 1962, among them two pieces designed by Rauschenberg (“3 Epitaphs” and “Tracer”) and then “Aureole.” The contrast between those 1962 works, “Tracer” and “Aureole,” remains striking.

Does it matter now that these artists fell out then? Rauschenberg and Cage achieved fame within a very few years anyway (and fell out with each other). But it seemed to some, as it still does to some today, that Mr. Taylor had compromised — that popularity is what he had decided to court — whereas Rauschenberg & Company bided their time, uncompromisingly, till acclaim came their way. Others, however, were and are able to love both the popularly entertaining and the disquietingly avant-garde aspects of Mr. Taylor.

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From left, Amanda Stevenson, Princeton McCurtain and Rei Akazawa of Taylor 2 in “Aureole.”CreditAndrea Mohin/The New York Times

The program’s big historical event was the revival of “Tracer,” the last of the Taylor-Rauschenberg collaborations, unseen onstage since 1964 and, after no more than 10 performances back then, remembered by few. Its reconstruction by the dance scholar Kim Jones, assisted by Thomas Patrick and other former Taylor dancers, has involved instinct and imagination as well as research; but Mr. Taylor has given it his approval, letting it stand as part of his history. It first reached the stage on Sept. 30 at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte.

You have to smile about its Rauschenberg décor: It consists of an upended bicycle wheel, which spins by remote control now and then. This is Rauschenberg acting as an heir to Marcel Duchamp, creator of the early ready-made “Bicycle Wheel” in 1913, showing the anti-utilitarian aspects of the quotidian. Wheels became a Rauschenberg motif. (I assume he was also joking about originality: “Have I invented the wheel?”) “Tracer” opens with one dancer curled in a ball beside the wheel, but almost all the movement that follows carries on regardless of it. It’s an austere and experimental piece.

Because that wheel is attributed to Rauschenberg, it became the most valuable element of “Tracer” — and until this reconstruction, almost the only part to survive. A few years ago, Mr. Taylor sold the original for $437,000, to endow his new American Modern Dance endeavor. Taylor 2 uses instead a super-right replica by Jeff Crawford. The Rauschenberg costumes — patterned tights — were rediscovered by Ms. Jones and are the basis for those worn here.

The score (played here on tape) is by James Tenney. The cast consists of one man (Lee Duveneck) and three women (Alana Allende, Rei Akazawa, Amanda Stevenson), who dance all four pieces. They make an admirable case for “Tracer”; I hope this revival has a longer life. They show how uncompromising the “Tracer” choreography still is — poses and movement sometimes alternate — and how Mr. Taylor was deliberately trying different ways both of responding to music and showing independence from it. Some images prefigure later Taylor choreography, as in the way the man cradles one woman in his arms. A pattern for the three women, hopping around one another in a figure of eight, already shows Mr. Taylor’s felicity of design.

Watching “Tracer” and “Aureole” in quick succession — they formed this program’s second half — was to feel both sides of the old argument. The breezy charm and singing musicality of “Aureole” are a real change of tack, but all the older works here show Mr. Taylor’s steady investigation of choreographic musicality. “Junction,” made to Bach in 1961 and the immediate predecessor to “Tracer,” has been revived in recent years; like “3 Epitaphs,” it points to several directions that Mr. Taylor was to take.

During Friday’s performance, you could see all six young Taylor 2 dancers come into bloom. Mr. Duveneck, stern and powerfully built, dancing Mr. Taylor’s own roles, grew steadily sweeter and more powerful. In “Aureole,” his alternation between sculptural firmness and ardent plasticity was wonderful to behold. Borne by the music, he seems to be discovering new zones of himself.

Paul Taylor’s Taylor 2 92nd Street Y

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page C2 of the New York edition with the headline: A Choreographer’s Early Stage, Colored by an Artist. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe